Convulsions
by ColiOli
Summary: He doesn't know what to feel when the moment catches up with him. Its like he's blind to seeing something more when he's always been used in the past.


There had been times, months of these times, where both made eye contact longer than just an expression that carried communication. Their messages owned a combination of mixed signals –lust primarily, but there was a deeper meaning behind their desires that lay behind those gazes. Rick would catch the eyes of Daryl and find himself looking back into them longer than intended. At first this happened occasionally. But ever since things had begun to settle and life felt good again, Rick felt himself wanting to add to this happiness through someone else.

When those signals became a persistent and lingering frustration, their temptation of connection became imminent.

The destructive bit out of everything, was they always fought before sex.

The first time was no exception.

The first time it happened, Daryl thought this was perhaps an 'alpha male' thing in a society where the leader did whatever he wanted. A society similar to the one they scraped to hold together. Rick had brought him into one of the abandoned areas scarcely used for it was hardly lit by dim lighting through small windows. Rick cornered him, insisting that whatever this was couldn't go on any longer. He half-heatedly struggled against Rick using his body to pin Daryl against a wall. He pushed Rick back once, then again, and again.

They were alone though, and this is when the words started breaking loose of the restraints held upon them by any sort of common sense. Daryl was strong, but they were an equal match. It wasn't long before he Rick win as his body was pressed against the cool stone wall. Perhaps he gave up because he wanted this. Trapped, but like the wild wolf ready to unleash if need be. He contained himself long enough to let this whole thing play out.

"What the hell do you think this Daryl? You don't think I feel it too?"

"Feel what?" He sneered.

"You know what."

"Nah, I know nothin'!"

"Don't lie." His raspy voice flicked breath along Daryl's cheek, edging his desire onto the brink of pushing this to the next level. Truth was that Daryl's did know what this was. He followed Rick down here knowing very well where this was likely going to go. The secret tension between them was as dense as the humidity outside.

Daryl debated that he could let this happen, or he could deny it and lay this whole phase to rest. He could almost hear Meryl in the back of his mind now (he pushes the empty void of Merle away...), telling him to fight back. "Ain't no sissy brother of mine getting _fucked_ by a dick. Look at you, being his little bitch."

Just at that word though... oh how deeply he needed some sort of release.

"I..." his voice trailed off as he looked into those eyes blazing down into his own. "I don't know," he mumbles again. His words fade off like the sound of wind through the trees as it became lost to a receiver of sound.

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know Rick. This… us. It ain't right."

Rick ignored any sort of protest and leaned his head forward, taking a moment to pause with just the bare skin of their foreheads touching. Eyes closed, they tested their grounds. It was Rick who sealed the taste.

What happened next was like domination of instinct from deep within, unleashing themselves into everything they had desired. The feeling of nails brushing against skin. Testing, pushing limits, feeling nothing and yet everything all at once. The sensation was unreal, for nothing should honestly taste or feel this good.

But it did. Rick found himself feeling along Daryl's back then around to his front, and oh how he wanted more when he felt Daryl's stomach tense as his fingers traced lines across his abdomen. Gently, he pushed Daryl to the floor before laying on top him.

Neither thought for a moment about who they had been fucking before this moment. Both were straight. Always had been. This was something else though. Maybe it was more primitive than emotional. Like, it could just be some instinctual alpha male sorta thing. But who the hell analyzes that shit when they're in the moment?

They were alone, and in this secluded area of the prison, they had no fear of being found.

"Fuck," Daryl whispered as his neck was kissed tentatively just in the very spot that sent him over the edge. Rick's stubble grazed along his collar bone, shortly before his clothes were stripped from his form. He felt clumsy as they were pulled from his body. More than anything, he felt exposed, left open for the person above him to see. A lifetime of secrets were on exhibit for Rick to observe, document and make judgment for himself. It slammed his anxiety in the front of his mind, bringing him back to reality that this all felt fucked up and wrong despite the boner he wished more than ever would just go away.

If he could see the scars, take notice to them or care, Rick acted as if he didn't. He was rough, yet gentle with the work of his hands. His hands coaxed the frame of Daryl's ribs. Rick's own body pressed down into Daryl –hips rocking, pressing his erection against Daryl's. When he turned Daryl over, he kissed, let his lips graze along those imperfections which Daryl hid from all.

After this moment, there would be no secrets from one another. This was the moment to take any pair to the next level of profound trust.

"Have you done this before?" Rick asks just above Daryl's ear.

If he was nervous, he dared not to show it. "Nah."

Rick, the usual leader took his normal place being in charge as he assumed his position above Daryl. "It's gonna hurt. I'll be gentle. Tell me if you can't-"

"Just get it on with."

He hears the zipper of pants unfasten. All Daryl feels is the touch of cold against his skin as his naked body lay in direct contact with the stone surface. His fabric shield, used to protect eyes from secret scars, feels prematurely ripped from his body. He begins to have flashes of doubt, strong in waves like an ocean, hitting his confidence and knocking it to the ground. Tremors of anxiety race through his body, causing him to shiver in the dark.

He can't stand it any longer and twists his body around to protest, pushing his former friend –leader, off of his back. Rick guides Daryl to turn over onto his back, a little shocked by the reaction and unsteady breaths which escape Daryl. His hands find their way to Daryl's cheeks and stroke in downward motions, again, and again, before resting in place. His rough skin is both gentle and firm. Rick leans close, and once again rests his forehead against Daryl's. He whispers sweet nothings, nothings that dance around and attempt to alter any sort of denial away from his conscious.

"We don't have to do this…" He carefully reminds Daryl.

Daryl shudders at Rick's words. Sweat pours off his body in the form of water linked together in cohesion, or something. He starts to think that this is stupid, or tells himself that he's not a fag… -An image of Merle flashes in his mind. Sadness replaces itself in his heart, this moment becomes too much emotional baggage and he just about loses control… -He gets the reminder of his deep want when the press of firm lips press upon his own. Seeking any sort of distraction enables him to melt into Rick's mouth.

Rick can taste sweat, a salty mix that for some reason only increases his arousal. He begins kissing in other places, encouraged by gasps or moans that serve as sexual lullabies somewhere deep within his soul. He can't stop now if he wanted to. His own dick is begging for release of any form. A touch. Something. So he presses it against Daryl's, hoping to feel resistance in return.

Some sort of instinct or something takes over. Daryl still hasn't decided what this shit it. Is it the fact that he's actually aroused, or the fact that if he stops now, shit will forever change between them? Maybe's it's because he secretly wants to be wanted, loved, kept somewhere within a heart. Or it's that he fucking can't get far enough away from his own internal despair. Whatever the hell it is, it sure as fuck feels like temptation and for once it might not be a bad thing to act upon it.

Daryl lets go of the fear. He places his cold hands on Rick's shoulders, looking deep into those eyes which in reality, have served as protection for him since the beginning. Rick only stares back, both lost in each other's eyes for several seconds, before Rick nods and removes layers of his own clothing. It isn't long before he's turned Daryl back over and uses his own body to provide some relief from the cold.

Daryl doesn't mind the feeling for now. The feeling of just being here for the use of getting someone off. Maybe's it's the realization that this is what he owes him. He owes Rick this right now, and maybe it's not anything else other than a fuck. For some reason, this comforts him and sets any emotional baggage aside. Yes. Just a fuck.

His stomach contracts when he feels a dick pressed between his ass. He begins to shake. Convulsions spread around his body, making him feel as though it's actually a lot colder inside when it's not. He lets the man above him kiss his shoulders, listens to the edge of certainty that this will feel good. Rick says some shit, something about being so hard, can't hold it in much longer.

He feels fingers enter deep inside, and the feeling is actually quite good. He doesn't know he's actually enjoying it until he lets out a gasp which closely is followed by a groan.

"Nnn, fuck…"

"Ah Daryl."

Apparently Rick can't wait any longer, because he presses his dick right where those fingers just were and begins to push himself inside. There's an explosion of pain. Mostly pain, anxiety and sadness, but mixed in there are brief seconds of pleasure.

Daryl doesn't even realize he's not all the way in, until Rick starts warning him it's gonna hurt more, and then it does. Daryl groans and his body automatically seeks to protect itself by pulling away. Rick holds his shoulders down, keeping Daryl's body in place before pausing.

His breaths come out in gasps, "It's gonna hurt Daryl -not much longer…ah so good already."

"Shit-… fucking-… hurts," is all he can manage to say in between breaths.

And it does. More than he thought it could. The sounds of Rick moaning above him actually begins to turn him on. His dick starts to harden, and even more so when the pain begins to subside and he can really feel the brief moments of pleasure. His hands are spread out on the concrete, gripping onto it as if he can pull at the surface like loose bed sheets. His body begins to act with its own objectives as his hips begin to go in rhythm with Rick's movements.

Nothing seems to matter right now except getting himself to that moment. His mind begins to fog into some sort of instinctual bit where anxiety and fear don't matter, and his dick starts feeling heavier and heavier wanting more than ever to cum. Just when he thinks he might lose his mind into some sort of oblivion, he reaches that point and he transforms into a hysterical bit of bliss and ecstasy. His body freezes as it ejaculates warm cum all over the floor, the sensation both too much and not enough at once.

Somewhere right after that moment, Rick grips into his shoulders and pushes deep within him, releasing his semen inside. His nails dig deep into Daryl's skin. Deep red marks stay behind when those hands leave. They lay there for several moments, panting and soaking in an nonexistent breeze cooling skin glazed in perspiration. Rick doesn't say anything as he pulls himself out and sits on his knees, Daryl thinks probably admiring the sight. It only humiliates him. Shit was never meant to go this way.

All Daryl can do now is awkwardly stand all while avoiding those gazing eyes which study him. Pain and wet won't let him forget what just happened, as if mocking him similar to words he can anxiously hear Merle shouting from Hell. He pulls his clothes back on, mutters something incomprehensive in Rick's direction, before leaving Rick alone in the room.


End file.
